And Then No MoreThe doll doth sit in wooden rocking chair, blacken hair falling about her shadowy shoulders.
Moonlight scurries through glass cascading over tiny evil that has begun to rock.
On wispery winds travels laughter of wicked thing that is young, but old.
Frozen in the iron grip of iced hands smelling of death and damnation thou does lie.
Shadows do hellish dance from childish figure to move about walls and bed.
Heart threatens to burst from bony fortress long protecting against graven matters.
Breath of the shadows now caresses flesh, inviting self into state of lustful euphoria.
One deep breath, a quiver down the spine, a child's laughter and then no more.
Poetry by David W. Glavin
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Written on 2016-07-06 at 02:12
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